Never Talk To Strange Men
by thetreehugger1
Summary: One shot. Set before Mitchell's prequel. Herrick and Mitchell go hunting in London and come across Shirley.


**My first fanfic. For this I have taken Mitchell's prequel and tried to come up with what happened before. It's not action packed. Not at all. I prefer writing and looking at the character's personality and relationships with others. For this reason some may find this a bit boring. Sorry! But I hope this is not the case. Being Human and all its characters belong to the clever Lord Toby (Toby Whithouse). Without him the world would be a very different place (to me at least!) so thank you to him! All mistakes that I've made are my own so I apologise in advance. I hope you like it and please comment!  
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**London 1964**

The night was like any other - a velvet sky, the luminous moon, the gentle, cool breeze that danced through the air. Nothing obvious that would foreshadow the happenings of that April night. But then, there never was.

The pub also held no reason for suspicion. Its grubby exterior looked out onto a rather quiet cramped street where people walked up and down, all ready and excited for what the night held for them. Unlike the rest of the unappealing dark buildings that shared its neighbourhood the pub's bright neon light that declared it was open and loud bustle from those inside was inviting. This was undoubtedly a popular place, which was one of the reasons why it was chosen.

Outside the building a car pulled up, gleaming, sleek and midnight black to seem like a shadow creeping through the London roads without being noticed. Out of this vehicle a man appeared and opened the back door from where another appeared. The second man murmured something and patted the other's shoulders cheerily before they ventured inside the pub.

'Now come on Mitchell. There must be someone here that you want,' the elder man, the passenger, said addressing his accomplice.

Mitchell's eyes wavered over the people drinking, talking, laughing. There were many whom he wanted, and by the consuming expression of his fellow's eyes, many whom he wanted too. None would, however, be possible. They were all in groups of two or more, all of whom would notice if one of their friends mysteriously vanished. Back in Bristol, perhaps things could have been arranged but here, in London it was different.

'Not now Herrick,' Mitchell finally responded making his way towards an empty table concealed away in a corner away from the activity in the main area.

'No, right you are soldier. Though,' Herrick paused, his eyes playful, sidling into his seat, 'there may be a time soon when one of these is alone and then...' His lips parted into a grin showing rows of pure white teeth like a shark about to kill.

'Not now Herrick,' he repeated, his dark eyebrows furrowed which cast a shadow across his eyes, shrouding them, and stared straight ahead at the bar.

Herrick's grin vanished, replaced with a look of deep interest.

'Right...Of course.'

He then took a newspaper from the next door table and without a further word began to read.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, the pair sat in silence. Mitchell moving only to adjust his suit before settling back into his former position with his unreadable gaze whereas Herrick moved more often - turning a page, sweeping a stray strand of his thick blonde hair behind the ears and even more occasionally, the brief glance up at his friend.

A large intake of breath emitted from Herrick, causing Mitchell to break his glare and he raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

'What?'

Herrick clasped his hands together. 'Seth, of course.'

'Yeah? What about him?'

'There was a murder in Bristol. One woman was found dead with her throat ripped open. It seems, Mitchell, that as soon as I leave for a well earned holiday Seth gets lazy. Either that or he's had a bump to his head. Nothing major to worry about though, they'll sort it out. But, then again, I might give him a -'

'Her.' Mitchell's slowly forming smile at the thought of Herrick punishing Seth disappeared, his eyes resting on the young blonde haired woman sitting at the bar all alone.

Herrick's eyes widened and he turned slowly round till he too had spotted her. He laughed, short but clearly approving of the find. He looked back at Mitchell and, though his eyes still held some curiosity of his companion's reluctance to feed earlier, they also held excitement and, once again, hunger.

'Well, Mitchell, it appears that there is someone here suitable for us after all,' pausing for a second he viewed the man opposite, 'How about you stay there looking...looking like that and I,' he rose from his chair, an eager gleam in his eyes, 'I will have some fun.'

'Herrick.'

'Hey, relax! I'm only going to talk to her. We'll have a drink later. Don't worry – you know I don't like playing with food this early.'

'I wasn't,' Mitchell replied, unconvinced.

'Good, because I am going over there and I'm going to have a nice conversation with the lady.'

Without waiting for a response from his friend, Herrick walked casually over to the other side of the room and sat down next to 'the lady' the gleam and the mesmerizing grin plastered on his face. He looked back at Mitchell reassuringly.

'Excuse me? Can I have a beer please? Yeah, that'll do thanks.'

He took the drink from the bartender, slipping the money into his palm. Herrick took one sip and cocked his head to one side, smiling at the girl of whom they had taken an interest in.

'Are you alright?' he asked and then laughed as she looked back at him, confused shock spread over her face. She blushed.

'Yeah. I'm fine.'

'Oh, sorry. You just looked lost there, alone. Have you got anyone with you?'

'Erm...no, I've just finished work. Come here for a little pick-me-up.'

'That's nice...' Herrick had now turned around on his stool so that he could talk to her easily and his eyes roamed her body, taking in her figure. He noted that she was small but healthy looking and her blonde hair, which was carefully placed in a typical updo, matched her cream dress effectively. All this and the dramatic dark eyeliner which outlined her eyes created the impression that she liked, perhaps even yearned for attention and Herrick was pleased with this. It meant that his and Mitchell's job would be even easier than normal.

'Herrick, by the way.'

'Shirley,' she smiled back at him, the shock fading away rapidly, 'And I think you can buy me a drink.' She tipped her head back flirtatiously.

Herrick laughed softly at the preposition, 'And why would I do that?'

She lowered her head embarrassed. 'Haven't got any money and you look quite well off.'

'You shouldn't judge someone by their appearance, Shirley.'

Shirley turned her gaze back upwards to the man. 'Ha! Yeah, I suppose you shouldn't but...you know...' she beamed up at him again, 'You gonna buy me a drink then?'

'Well, one wouldn't hurt.' He put his hand into his suit pocket and pulled it out again swiftly, 'Ah, sorry, seems that I'm not that well off.' Though the lie was obvious to Mitchell and anyone else who was used to Herrick's tricks, any suspicion that Shirley held was instantly forgotten by the apparently trustworthy smile that covered up his face so believably.

'You can have mine though, I think it tastes disgusting.' Herrick offered his drink to Shirley who ignored it and instead looked at Herrick with a mischievous glint in her eye.

'Though you still bought it. I think you came over here to talk to me, little Shirley.'

Herrick dropped his smile but mock could be heard in his voice, 'Of course not. I came over here to buy a drink and I did. It just turned out it tasted revolting.' His former expression returned, emphasising the fact that this was a lie that was meant to not be believed.

'Yeah, sure... Anyway, it doesn't matter, I'll just get one at home. Well, that's if Joseph has left me anything. He's my cousin,' she explained, sliding off her stool. 'His girlfriend has just left him so he's in a state of depression.'

Smiling warmly but regretfully, she picked up a long cream cardigan and went to leave.

'Do you need a lift?' Herrick asked quickly, on the verge of desperation but still calmly enough for anyone not in the know. As a reply to his outburst, Shirley walked back towards him, a victorious grin growing upon her face.

'If that's OK,' she leapt back onto the stool and swung her legs around. 'I knew you didn't want just a drink, cheeky.'

'Is that so? Well tell you what, I'll ask my friend if we can make a stop at your place and as part of the package you can have this.' He offered the beer which she took and placed it next to her on the bar.

'I'll be back in a minute.'

As Herrick made his way from her, Shirley followed his movements until she had found the person that the man was heading towards. She was surprised at first because who she was expecting to be, like Herrick, early middle aged (though she had to admit that he was rather attractive), was in fact a devilishly handsome young man, only a few years older than herself. She let her eyes swallow in this mysterious person whom she had only just seen. He had dark eyebrows, almost pure black hair which was slicked back into a small bun, exaggerating his side burns and he was, similar to Herrick, wearing a smart suit. However the clothes and the handsomeness were the only things that the two had in common. Shirley wondered how the men had met and what had caused this strange companionship.

Their eyes met and she smiled at him but was not taken aback by the fact that he did not return the gesture. The way he was staring at her implied that he had not taken a liking to her. However, straight after she had come to this conclusion he smiled back briefly, surprising Shirley once again. She widened her grin, her vain mind choosing to ignore how the smile had not reached his eyes and how it had been a smile, rather than of admiration like she presumed, but of covetousness.

Mitchell had been watching the conversation between the two intently, not because he was interested, he had seen and heard this many times in the last 45 or so years, he paid attention so as to help if anything went wrong on behalf of either Shirley or Herrick. He himself had also partaken in this 'performance' a fair few times before. They enjoyed the game, the challenge. Each time someone new, a new reaction and though the conversations followed the same basic structure, new dialogue to invent. There sometimes were, of course, implications but generally they got what they were after and left happy and sated

Over the last few years Mitchell had started to let Herrick do the talking and had surveyed from afar. He always came back for the true fun though. However, even that addiction was beginning to lose its hold but he decided to keep silent about that. He knew what Herrick could do.

'Well, what do you think?' Herrick's inquiring voice snapped Mitchell out of his thoughts. He looked up at his acquaintance and saw that his smile had disappeared but a spark was still clear in his look and tone.

'She's good. I thought you said you didn't like playing with food?'

Herrick laughed. 'Oh come now Mitchell. You know me better than that! And anyway, I thought you said you weren't going to worry.'

The younger man grunted and took a glance at the girl, still waiting at the bar. She was watching them with eagerness, cheerful about the fact that she had met Herrick and was getting a lift back with, whom she assumed were nice, courteous men. If only she knew.

'Now see here Mitchell, if you don't cheer up soon you'll scare her to death before we've even had a say!'

Herrick put his hand on Mitchell's shoulder and grinned assuredly, 'It's ok, I'm only joking.' His serious expression returned. 'Really though – cheer up, you're making me sad...'

He observed him for a moment before turning around to Shirley.

'Right, now that that's settled let's get young Shirley back home. Where do you live then?'

With his arm around her comfortingly, Herrick led Shirley out of the pub and into the cold dark night and into the back of the car belonging to the two strange men.


End file.
